


amidst the cacophony of the sea (were you crying?)

by miyawakii



Series: for safe-keeping (shortfics) [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Comedy, Desert Island, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Pirates, Sirens, Slice of Life, and oikawa is the pirate captain he kidnapped, anyway this is fun!, as usual, ish?, no there is no vore, on the desert island, see, suga is a siren, suga is fun and weird, that suga lived in for the past... who knows how many years, they are on a fun and chaotic adventure
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:29:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25475410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miyawakii/pseuds/miyawakii
Summary: “Out of all the words in your language, I like ‘fingertips’ the most.” The man said, the melody of his tune treading among the legato of the ocean waves.“Tell me about it,” Tooru whispered, then, his drunken eyes yawned reality into haziness......otherwise, the man’s hair would not have been akin to the silvery moon.
Relationships: Oikawa Tooru/Sugawara Koushi
Series: for safe-keeping (shortfics) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1842163
Kudos: 17





	amidst the cacophony of the sea (were you crying?)

**Author's Note:**

> i really really want to work on a long, elaborated work like your hand in mine soon, but my schedules.... smh.  
> anyway it doesn't mean that i "settled" for short fics though! i have a lot of fun planning and writing for this actually (especially on the chapter titles)! but as a very long winded person.... ya know why i like writing longer fics hehe.
> 
> don't be fooled by the fic title! this fic is fun and cute! eheheheh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Isn’t it special, that it is so significant and so small? So precise yet so heavy? A tentative overcoming of fear?”

“Out of all the words in your language, I like ‘fingertips’ the most.” The man said, the melody of his tune treading among the legato of the ocean waves. 

“Tell me about it,” Tooru whispered, then, his drunken eyes yawned reality into haziness... 

...otherwise, the man’s hair would not have been akin to the silvery moon.

_(Tooru remembered it being duller, at the tavern -- a grey hue that suited faded hair, suiting of something humane. Exotic, but not unearthly._

_It might have been the lighting, Tooru reasoned, anyway. After all, pirates need bright lamps for their maps; brighter than what a shady establishment could provide.)_

“It’s something delicate,” the tune continued, “maybe because of how small it is. 

“And it’s at the forefront of human touch, too, that tiny pad of skin.” The stranger’s finger, cold and pale like moonlight against the dark sea, found its place along the back of Tooru’s hand.

“It’s not like the palm, strong and commanding; it’s neither expressive,” When the fingertips reached the end of its path, pausing at the edge of Tooru’s nails, he flipped his palm. An invitation. “You, a seaman, see, with all the cuts and calluses.” The fingers proclaimed and healed in its wake — sending a tingle down Tooru’s own.

“It’s something more... tentative. Something that is unsure of its existence, tainted with a touch of hesitation… or, perhaps, shame, under the guise of diffidence.” Tooru looked up, at the same time as the stranger. The stranger he brought to his cabin. 

“Shame of what?”

“Of whatever it might be that the palm will not claim. An alliance with a foul ghoul, perhaps.” The man smiled, his amber eyes grew even brighter next to the lamp, “Or, affection.” 

Outside of the cabin, the moon unveiled its scarf of light, vaunting its plumpness. The waves sung.

“But it’s so small, you know,” the stranger continued, the melody now thick and slowed like honey, “So insignificant. Yet, you can feel all of it. The force of everything that rests upon the tip.” 

“Like a sword, perhaps.” 

His shrill chuckle flowed into the touch, seeped into Tooru’s hand, “Maybe, if that is what you brutes prefer.”

Tooru hummed, letting the tip of that willowy sword danced around in his palm, tracing a rhythmic pattern akin to the deep current. “But it’s heavy, and it’s special, because it makes you think of the universe. The multiverse, even, if you know of it.

“You’d get to think about how, in another universe, that insignificant touch would not be there. Or in another, it is forwent by the brute force of a palm. 

“You’d get to think about how special and opportunistic it is, that significant touch, because out of all that could have happened, you get the precise pressure of a fingertips.” 

“So are nothing and everything not special?” 

“What is more beneficial, a compromise or an absolute that you cannot win?” 

“What about an absolute that I can win?”

“What if, say, you don’t know what that absolute is?” The man giggled, and the waves shook with it.

_(Tooru wondered if he can get more drunk without having anything more to drink. He wondered if the alcohol had now seeped the last of it into his system, because the moonlight and the lamplight are making the stranger’s hair its own hall of prismatic dances. Green like the northern light. Sparkling blue like the morning sea. Soft yellow like a summer afternoon, hinted with salt.)_

“So, we are special, in this moment?” Tooru asked, anyway, sheving the waltz of light at the back of his eyes, for a morning that seemed an infinity away.

“Yes, we are.” The touch tickled, before, Tooru thought, but now the stranger has turned the fingertips into nails.

_(That should have been strange, Tooru would have thought, if he was not drunk of whiskey and moonshine._

_Rarely does anyone have long nails, at the dock. Much less a man familiar with the sea; familiar enough that he is not at all troubled by the naught of waves.)_

“Is that all, for the ‘fingertips’?” Tooru giggled, “The preciseness of it? The hesitation? The compromises?” 

“Isn’t it special, that it is so significant and so small? So precise yet so heavy? A tentative overcoming of fear?”

_(The beautiful stranger smiled — a wide tilt of the lips, amberstones dunked in an ostentatious veneer of moonlight, and skin that seemed translucent in the night, deep and cool like the ocean surface—_

_Had he not been drunk, Tooru mused._

_Had he not been drunk, he would have not been fooled by the depth of the water.)_

“You should have used it at the dance floor, you know.” Tooru smiled, guileless and drunk, like a prey.

“How come?”

“There is no one else here to appreciate it.” 

“Let’s make the waves our dance floor, then.” He smiled. A gesture that is so human, Tooru thought. 

_(_ ~~_shame_ ~~ _under the guise of_ ~~_diffidence_ _)_ ~~

That night, Oikawa Tooru and the stranger escaped. 

_(A stranger with words so much like songs.)_


End file.
